


Licensed to Carnage

by HyperGlytch



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Horror - Fandom, resident evil village
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dominant Masochism, Explicit Sexual Content, Game: Resident Evil 8 | VILLAGE, Horror, Instagram Original, Lady Dimitrescu - Freeform, Lady Dimitrescu Original Character, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Submissive Character, Vampirism, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 21:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperGlytch/pseuds/HyperGlytch
Summary: The Beginning and Continuation of Countess Alcina Dimitrescu. Allow yourselves to be enchanted by the Lady of the House and the happenings that go on-behind closed doors.[Trigger Warnings: Blood, Gore, Violence, Sexual Themes, Torture, Death, etc.] Basically, all the good stuff.This is a series that takes place before cannon and then will follow through the release of the game. Following Cannon storyline.(This was originally adapted from an Instagram format. With that being said the chapters start short and grow longer as the series continues.)
Kudos: 9





	1. Current Little Mishaps

Lady Dimitrescu roams the castle halls, ensuring each and every piece of the Dimitrescu family heirlooms are resting where they are designed to be. Dressed in white, heels click, making the ground shake beneath her heavenly weight of pure seduction. Raven hair resting in 1950's curls just above her well stature shoulders. Gracing her head with a large black sunhat sat at an angle to accentuate her facial features. Leather gloves lacing each individual digit for the sin she is about to commit. Glowing gold eyes pierce the very direction she stares. A glimpse and it could be your last.

"Where is it?" Alcina growls under her breath hidden between tight teeth, noting a missing heirloom with a dust indentation resting where it should be. Fingers tracing the pattern of the family insignia. The maids, having been put in single file line along the hall, shudder, silenced in the death of fear. Every set of eyes are begging, pleading for this day not to be their last. 'Mistress, we assure you nothing was missing when we dusted.' _ says, nearly shaking in her apron as the woman attempts to speak up. Trying to seem calm and undisturbed by her Mistress' clear distain that shows in her expression.

"And yet here I am, looking at an empty space." The Countess bites back, turning her head and glaring downwards at the woman. Eyes glowing bright gold as the fury begins to rise in the pit of her stomach. "Do not lie to me. For I will not give grace to those who lie." The Mistress' growls, eyes widening for a moment before she calms herself. Folding on hand on top of another, resting right in front of her chest. She gives a sickenly sweet smile. "Now, I will ask one more time." Alcina says, letting her eyes dig like daggers into each and every maiden standing in the row. They're nothing more then blood bags, in her eyes. Some carry a greater purpose, for a finer selection while others a rejects and not worth keeping alive. Alcina towers over the group of women, picking them off one by one like lambs brought to the slaughter house. Daggers digging into the back of there skulls with just her eyes. Silence.

One girl in particular, attempting to hide in the shadows of the others by back stepping a single step, causing her to stand out from the rest. Though there heads are down, heels click as the Countess begins to pace. Listening for labored breathing, a hint of weakness, even in a single breath. The girl has been there for maybe a few weeks; Young and barely out of her teens perhaps. Each women stand with their feet together and head down. Dimitrescu's daughters merely giggle like the devils demons, watching with hungry eyes before Mother dear decides who's for dinner. Silence. Aching, agonizing silence for those maidens. Just how the Woman in White prefers it to be.

Alcina tilts her head, latching like eyes of a hawk towards the girl that's just slightly off kilter. "You." She says, not even lifting a finger. Daniela, being the eldest of the three witches in Dimitrescu's court, gives a maniacal laugh, lurching forward to grasp ahold of the girl by the roots of her scalp. 'No! Please!' The blonde cries, immediately turning into a pool of her own demise. Attempting to fight it, struggling against the grip of the witch. "Dismissed! " The Mistress commands, letting her voice boom against the wailing of the blonde crying for help. "I think it's time someone learns a lesson."


	2. High Hopes

The creaking of chains could not compete with the sound of soft weeping that echo against the stone walls, making up each cell in the cellar of the Dimitrescu fortress. Cold, damp and void of any moment of peace. Nobody would desire to reside here. A vast comparison to the eloquent castle that sits atop, graced in gold and elegant design. Sin is all that awaits below the fortress. Heels click against the broken stone, leaving anyone resting in the cellars to stand upright and aligned facing the doors, as this is Her design. Claws unsheathed behind leather gloves, dragging across the iron bars as she walks, sparking metal against metal. A sound that is the beginning for many, and the end for few. Sophisticated, elegant and poised. Poison, death and sin. These are just few of the characteristics for Lady of the House. Gold eyes glowing are the only hint of where her intentions lie, in such a dark exterior. The brim of the hat tilts upward, allowing her eyes to show. Locking with little blonde maiden now resting in a mess on the floor of the cellar. The only fool not to stand in her presence.

An exhale escapes the chest and through the blood red lips of Lady Dimitrescu, almost looking in pity, but recoiled to that of disgust for the girl. "And here, I had high hopes for you." Her words are brittle, refined and cold to the sound. There is no warmth in the woman looking down at the blonde. Soulless, just as are the screams that echo every evening begging for mercy. 'P-pl-please...' The blonde pleads in a breathless shaking attempt. Tear stained, dirt covered cheeks were the least of the girls worries. The cold draft coming through the cracks of the stone make the maid shiver, and in that same instance, Alcina has bent forward, lifting the chin of the little girl with a single claw, forcing her to look at her and not think of moving, for the fear of injury. "Where is it?" The Countess asks, intense, calm and collected in her demeanor. The girls tears do not reach the pit where a heart should rest for the Mistress. Daniela resides off to the side, itching to get a bite, a reaction, anything. The witch wants the girl to bleed, perhaps more then her mother does.

'I-I-I don't know what you're talking about, h-honest.' The blonde woman whimpers, keeping her head bent upward in a strained position due to the height exchange, though she wouldn't dare move with the single placement of Dimitrescu's claw against her pale flesh. Having created a perfect indent into the skin of the girl, Lady Alcina simply smiles and pushes, just an inch, causing the maids head to tilt back further, pressing the metal to pierce through her skin, letting the blood flow down her neck and off of Alcina's claw. The blood that drips from the Mistress' claw allows her eyes to dilate. A simple exposure, causing the smallest of results. "Ah, ah, is that what I asked?" The Countess questions in an elegant mockery, listening to the shaking breath and stuttering words. Hearing the hammering heartbeat of the victim below her. Perfection and they've only just begun.

'N-No...' The blonde shudders, sinking backwards, only making the injury to her chin that much worse. But it was instinctual to recoil from the Mistress, as this was Her design. 'I-I promise I don't k-know where they are!' The maid cries, attempting to keep her body from shaking despite her knees wanting to give out. 'Surely she's lying!' Daniela yelps, antsy and lacking the dedication and conviction it takes to do what Mother Dimitrescu does. "Silence!" Alcina snaps with a low hiss, snapping her head towards her daughter. Daniela growls, obeying like a dog who understands the command, knowing her mother's intentions. She was to learn, just as much as the Maid does, but for a very different reason.

Lady Dimitrescu pulls back, letting her claw drag up the maids chin, ripping the flesh as she goes. Like stitches being removed before their due time. One hand now resting on her hip, the other letting her claw come to her lip. Dragging her tongue across the blade, chaotic sin. The blood tastes the freshest from a live human being. Eyes glowing even brighter the moment her taste buds get ahold of the metallic taste. The blonde maid, collapses to her knees, sobbing in fear and uncertainty. A chuckle begins to shake the bars of the iron cellars, rumbling the very foundation they rest on. The Devils Bride is at play. "Bring it to me." Alcina commands towards her daughter. Keeping her eyes fixated on the maiden. "Oh my dear, this won't be pleasant for you. But it will be for me." She says with a devilish chuckle, letting her head tilt, feigning a chaotic sympathy that does not reign true. "This is what happens to those who lie." Alcina's vocals drop an octave. The rasp carrying the threat forward just as quickly as the cellar door opens and her fingers are wrapping around the Maiden's neck, crushing the vocal chords and collapsing her breath. "Let's see how special you are."


	3. Lessons Learned

The body goes limp, the breath taken from the lungs, hands desperate in attempt to gather air to no avail. Breathless choking sounds are all that ring in the Countess' ears. A chuckle following the sound while she drags the Maiden from the cellar and bringing her towards a separate section. Daniela having prepared the desired items for such a ritual. A single wooden chair rests in the center of this room. Old and practically falling apart from the way it sits. Though it has been reinforced with iron pieces... Having been used time and time again... For centuries.

Alcina Dimitrescu slams the Maiden down into the chair, letting Daniela begins to strap the girl in, wrapping coarse leather around her wrists and binding them to the chair. Isla screamed in terror and anguish from the pain that's a shockwave through her body. The Devils Bride now turning with a very old contraption in her hands, moving in silence. Deafening silence. Once Daniela has finished the process she's moved to take ahold of the Malay boot, securing it as such, The instrument splints the foot and ankle between a pair of vertical boards made of strong wood. Encapsulating the Maids instep and toes, leaving no room for escape, on either side. 'I-I-I don't have it! I swear!' Isla cries in pleading agony. An eyebrow rising as the cry resonates to the Countess. "Oh, do we now suddenly recall a memory?" She asks, batting her eyelashes and grinning through blood red lips while bringing her hand up to pause Daniela further from securing the boots. 'It's with the tapestries and the candlestick's that have gone missing as well... P-please! It wasn't my idea, honest!" The maid begs, having gained enough courage to speak coherently towards her captor.

"So quick to spill the information now that you've realized your mistake, hmm?" Alcina coos, playful and mocking of the clear discomfort the Maiden is in. "Perhaps you'll think twice before holding your tongue." The Countess steps forward, allowing the single beam of light to meet her face, exposing the dark side to her pretty exterior. Glowing eyes only grow brighter as she bends forward, finishing the securing of the boot herself. Once the boot is secured, Alcina rises to her normal stature, both hands resting on her hips. 'No-No I-I didn't do it!' Isla wails, struggling to wiggle and shake the chair she's in. 'But I know who did!' The Maid cries yet again, hoping to gain some sort of reaction that is void from the Mistress standing in front of her. Looking rather unimpressed at the trembling mess beneath her. The older woman simply shakes her head in disapproval. "Tsk, Tsk." Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth. "Enough talking. Don't waste your breath with foolish attempts to gain my sympathy." Alcina growls. Without so much as another word, the Countess commands with a notion of her fingertips towards Daniela to then move the crank located to the side of the boots.

The pressure begins to grow against the heels and instep of the Maiden's feet. Her hands grip at the edges of the chair, fingernails beginning to scratch the wood, leaving deep indentations. The woman in white, continues the delivery of the chosen torture method, watching with hungry eyes and an expression that could kill. The slit of wood, causing the heels to grind against the internal object of the boot. Growing worse, and worse. Tears stream down the maidens face as she continues to struggle against the leather straps. Hands clasped together in front of her chest, The Mistress of the Dimitrescu household watches in terrifying silence. The witch, continues to grind the crank, putting more pressure onto the heels of Isla's feet. Agony would not begin to describe the pressure, the decapitating pressure of her own feet grinding together until she hears a loud CRACK! A blood curdling scream, reaches from the very depths of the maids lungs, ripping out externally through her vocal chords.

A smile now creeping across poisoned lips, eyes dilating, breath catching in her throat for only a second. Even after all these centuries, the sound of someone breaking, is the most pleasing to the Countess' ears. All she desires to do is watch, watch as the blonde collapses into a state of shock, letting every nerve ending in her body snap. Just like the bones of her kneecaps have done just seconds ago. The puffy red eyes give away just how much pain, Isla truly feels in this moment. Blood beginning to pool, creating internal bruising and flooding to the surface of her pale skin. Having no strength to refute or plead forgiveness from the Countess, the maid has nothing to give. The information is no longer important and this is not the first time the Lady of the House has sentenced people to torture. The bodies that hang from the ceilings, wrapped in lion cloth, dripping with old fermented blood. The horrors that rest in the castle walls, are only the beginning. "I do hope you've learned a valuable lesson here today, my dear." Lady Dimitrescu states, finally breaking the silence. "For it may be your last."


	4. Now She Speaks

The world collapsed into darkness, Isla's eyes close as the endless cries only match the others that sing like ghosts through the halls. Kneecaps having cracked under the pressure, leaving the young woman unable to walk. The young witch cackles at the extreme condition being displayed before her. 'Will she make it to dinner?' Daniela asks, releasing her hands from the crank and looking up to Lady Dimitrescu. The woman in white keeps the devilish grin across her face as she looks to her daughter; Hands clasped together with the sound of leather straining against each pressured finger with a curl. Indication of a simple transition between pressure from her palm to her fingers. "Of course, as we mustn't be late. It would be terribly rude." Alcina speaks, keeping her tone low, pitched with zero recognition of the maid in agony. 'I-I-I'm sor-r-ry.' Isla weeps, shaking from the shock, making the leather restraints jingle against the wood.

Fingernails having torn and blood resting underneath her nails. "Sorry, is a useless word, foolish girl." The Countess corrects with a sharp tongue, and a glare from her tilted head. Flicking two fingers forward, an instruction followed by a nod to Daniela to release the maid from her bindings. Both hands resting on her hips she stands, watching with stone-cold eyes. Isla, collapses to the floor. Gasping for a breath between weeping tears and a heaving chest. "Crawl." Lady Dimitrescu instructs, pointing downwards towards her feet. "And you just may receive my mercy." The Maiden shakes, making it even harder to move, while she attempts to pull herself across the stone flooring, paralyzed from the waist down. Elbows digging into the ground, dirt ruining the uniform that was assigned, ripping from the sharp pieces of crumbled stone.

'Yes, Mistress..' Isla manages to whisper in a hushed agonizing breath. The blonde locks are covered in dirt, blood and whatever else was left from the people before her. She can't feel her legs anymore. The sharp pain in her knees, has become numb and all her body is pulling dead weight. Having pulled her body towards the Countess, she stops just short. Isla looks up, to the towering woman, hoping for an ounce of kindness. Immediately slashed with pressure of claws digging into her jaw, coming up from underneath and piercing through her jaw, forcing her mouth open and hyper extended. Puncturing the flesh and sawing through the bone as if it were chalk. SNAP! Dimitrescu grins a little wider, having bent forward to take the broken Maiden into her claws. "Forgiveness is not given to those who are weak." Lady of the House whispers, letting her lips come inches from Isla's now bloody and dislocated jaw. Her breath could set the maiden on fire. Venom pools from the Castle's Mistress. With one hard pull, Alcina has now taken the lower jaw of Isla's ripping the flesh and tearing the bones with a loud POP. The curdling cry, only matched the blood that spills on the floor. The lower half of the Maiden's jaw drops beside her. "Pity, I suppose you won't be making it to dinner."

The young blonde gurgles, attempting to speak despite her now missing jaw. Fingers trembling while her body shakes from blood loss and shock. Flesh and torn muscles, pool with dangling veins and blood spilling. One finger, begins to write in the pool of blood she lays in, M-I-L-D-R-E-D. The Vampire let's her eyes drop, watching with a brow raised as she tilts her head, letting the words spell out the name. The Devils smile now curving blood red lips, she bends forward, claws sheathed lifting the girl by a single index finger, digging it into her missing portion, making the maid wince as the blood vessels continue to spew blood; to tilt her head up to look at the towering Mistress. "And now she speaks." Alcina mocks in a low hum of appreciation and chuckling as she drops the maid; Flicking the blood of her gloved fingers. "Bring me, Mildred." The Mistress of the House commands towards her daughters. Like insects to the swarm, they disappear. Going to retrieve the lamb, for the slaughter. "And there will be no need for two place settings. Our guests will be dining elsewhere this evening."


	5. Mildred

Hours turn to minutes, turn into seconds. Yet the brunettes lungs are full of blood, making it impossible to breathe. Choking on her own transgressions while her tongue is pressed against the back of her throat, gagging for any ounce of air she can receive. Eyes open wide, terrified with no solution in sight. Yet nothing comes. There is no mercy here. Nothing but blood and suffering. The ground is cold, stone digging into the feeble woman's backside, while the gashes in her abdomen bleed from the inside out. Quivering, a whimper is lost to the sounds of wailing that carries the moon until the sun rises.

Blood red lips tug at the corners, raven hair colliding with curls, now tilted while gold eyes gleam into the reflection of the precious china resting at the woman's fingertips. A ring of blood smeared with red lipstick covers a portion of the rim, black leather encapsulating the glass as if it were to shatter. Blue and a soft pink graced with gold lining and delicate glass make up the design for such a tea cup, or at least they did. Now it's merely pieces of broken expectations, glittering the floor bathed in blood. A deep red mahogany wood table drips with red wine and fermented organs strewn about the table. Organs only keep for a few hours. Flies buzz as if they have no destination, frenzied for any piece of flesh they can get their hands on. The room is quiet. Nothing but a breeze and the sound of flies making their feast are heard in the dining hall. Chairs knocked over every which way, backwards from the elegance that was seen just hours prior, in the Dimitrescu Castle. Where has such elegance gone?

Tick tock, tick tock, goes the Grandfather Clock. It matches the lonely heartbeat resting in the chest of the brunette hiding in the cupboard, holding onto her knees while her heart thrums in her ears. They can't catch her, they won't catch her. For a moment there is peace. For a moment there is silence. Clink. The gold insignia slips from the apron of the brunette causing a clatter to emerge from her hiding place. Brown eyes widen and a gasp splits her lips, just as fast as her hands fumble in attempts to catch the heirloom. A witches cry could be heard from miles down the halls. 'I haven't played with a maid in a while.' One of the three speaks, practically singing with deep rooted chaotic contempt for the situation, letting a scythe run across her tongue as she laps up the blood that rests on its edges. All three hovering while they patrol the hallways, as to not follow a specified pattern. "Girls!" The voice commands, letting the rasp accentuate the infliction of frustration in her voice. The Raven haired beauty now stands tall with both hands on her hips, blood still resting on the edges of the pristine white pleated dress. "Have you found her?" Dimitrescu scolds in a question. Intense, elegant and powerful. 'No, Mother.' They say in unison while remaining dormant in their positions. "She is in this castle and I want her found." The Mistress of the house commands with booming authority. The young maid shudders, attempting to crawl her way out of dinning room hall. Perhaps if she didn't put up so much of a fight, dinner would have gone smoother or it would have been her they ate for dinner instead of the woman in the barrel.

Crawling forward, the Maid shuffles in quieted silence, hoping neither of the three Mistress' daughters heard the clatter of the family heirloom. If the small woman can get out of this castle with the heirloom, she could be seeing dollar signs and an idea of a better life then the reality she lives here.

Mildred's mouth foams a soft pink while she coughs up blood and spits it onto the floor. Having rolled over from her backside to her side. Immediately whimpering in pain from the claw marks across her abdomen, they match the same across her back. Intestines spilled off to the side while her body oozes in her own internal contents. One hand reaches out and up, though the world is fuzzy, dim lit torches would not allow enough light to shine through the maids retinas to be able to react and assess what she's seeing. One eye has been gouged from the right side of her face. A figure emerges from the shadows, tap, tap, tap. The sound echo's in the girls ear. Mumbling some jumbled words, unable to make clarity in the situation. "There you are." The Countess purrs, letting the chuckle rumble across the floor and shake the very foundations. Unsettling and calm. Mildred's lungs begin to shake, while hyperventilation begins to set it. "Right where I left you."


	6. The Gatekeeper

Whispering of cold snow whisks against the shudders of the grand castle windows. A lantern attached to coarse black leather gloves keeping an even pace of back and forth between one side of a well statured body to the other. Blue eyes scan the scenery, almost as if they glow in the dark, matching that of the Mistress of the Castle. Though they are not the same as fire dances in his eyes. Looking no older then forty, nobody's quite sure where in the family line the man rests. A puff of air is exhaled through the mans lungs, leaving it visible to the outside world. The cold does not bother the man, wrapped in that of a black heavy wool coat, worn from years of use and repair. The Dimitrescu family insignia resting on either side of sleeves, revealing where such loyalties lie. Creaking sounds of the lantern shaking against the pressure of the wind along with the soft crunch of snow beneath a heavy boot are all that are heard outside the castle grounds. The fourth generation to carry the duty of sworn secrecy and protection. A veiled force very few see but many miss. Void from complication, a man that moves in simplicity and reserved respect. Questions are never asked unless tasked by the Mistress herself is given. "Nicolescu." The soothing voice summons, letting her fingers brush across the stubbled chin, having the leather dance across in dangerous luxury. 'Duchess.' The man in black responds, letting his head drop out of deep respect. A bow without the need for flared dramatics. The hat that rests on his head tilts, shielding the blue eyes even the Countess admires. Her fingers curl, causing his chin to rise, guiding him to look her in the eyes. A quiet and quaint smile curving blood red lips while her thumb brushes across his cheek before she's pulling away and letting the leather strain between the pressure of her palm to her fingers intertwining. No words need to be spoken as the understanding of what is being asked, is written in silence.

The snow does not faze either the Countess or the Gatekeeper, for they have braced things much harder then the winters howl. 'It is finished.' Nicolescu informs with a low rasp of appreciation for the kindness that has been extended to him. Alcina keeps the expression of unadulterated adoration. "You never cease to go above and beyond expectation, my dear Andrei." The woman in white coos with appreciation. He says nothing in response, for it would not be appropriate to interrupt the Duchess when she speaks. Andrei gives another bow of his head, letting the lantern shake between his fingers as the wind pushes against the pressure of his hands. Hair on the back of his neck rises, causing his eyes to snap towards the direction of the wind. Ocean deep blue eyes narrow, watching with deep infliction as his eyes adjust to the contrast of the dark against the fires light. Leathered fingers adjusting to the quick release on the strap of the shotgun resting on his back. One flick of his fingers and whatever stands in front of him will parish, without the blink of an eye. A whistle piercing the ears of anyone near by, but the sound is enough to call his prized possession, the dog now resting at his feet. Alert, marked and pointed towards the howl of the wind. Golden eyes snap upward and for a moment a flicker of concern glows for a second while the Mistress stands tall, watching with just as much intensity as the Gate Keeper. Fear does not rest in their eyes, mere chaotic curiosity. Nicolescu promised to keep the Castle and its Duchess safe from harm, just as he had all those years ago.

{Flashback}

"Don't let me down." Countess Dimitrescu growls, letting her nostrils flare as her teeth are gritted; now slamming the carriage door shut, rather then allowing the young man to do it for her. Nightmares in Black Stallions rear forwards, letting the pounding hooves begin the incineration of the ground beneath them; Almost as threatening as the Countess' footsteps themselves. Carriage wheels storming behind the pounding hooves, that is until everything is lurched to a halt, causing the Mistress to slam forward, catching herself with her hands planted against the front wall of the carriage. A sharp exhale with a deafening hiss splits across her lips as the woman in white, throws the doors open. "What the hell are you doing?!" Glowing gold eyes void of any kindness or mercy as her heels squash the dirt beneath her. A howling so loud it could make ears bleed just upon the first ring, causing Lady Dimitrescu to turn her head away, almost as if covering her ears from the shrieking cry of wolves blood-thirsty hunger. The carriage now surrounded by a pack of werewolves, keeping the young man and the older woman, trapped. Nicolescu is a man of few words, but that is because they were all spoken in his eyes. Shotgun now thrown forward, leaving him very little but brute strength to handle the pack of four. Lady Alcina was not surprised for the attempted overthrow, as this comes with the territory, let alone a woman in reigning power. The leader of the pack, lunges forward in attempts to get to Alcina Dimitrescu, but Nicolescu had jumped in front, taking the wolf by the mouth, colliding with the animal into the dirt. Red mixing with brown, black and gray. Blood spills from Nicolescu and the werewolf screams in agony, a knife lodged within the skull of the animal, leaving it one last opportunity to give a scathing result. Teeth collapsing into the side of Andrei's face, gnashing teeth to hear a loud CRACK leaving no room for interpretation.

Claws spilled the blood of the other three, the nine foot tall woman stands painted in red, dress tattered and torn, though the Countess stood victorious with barely a scratch. Hat just slightly off kilter, hair still resting in its bloody curls. Her tongue running across the blades of her fingers. "Well, I suppose that could have gone better." Alcina remarks, drawing out the sarcasm dripping off her tongue while letting her expression shine through in clear display of annoyance. Taking a moment to assess the rest of her surroundings, sheathing her claws and adjusting her leather gloves. Golden eyes scanning the area to note Andrei standing with a heavy chest. Blood pouring from the side of his face, mixed with dirt, fur and embedded with claw marks. Half of his skill may never recover from the damage that leaves the younger man standing there, the wolves head resting in his fingertips. Yet he says nothing, stepping forward and placing the head of the pack, down to her feet. An offering of sacred devotion. 'I'm sorry, Dutchess.' He says, letting his tone drop and the rasp to carry the internal infliction of regret in his voice. "I see how special you are." The Countess whispers, taking his bloody deformed face into her hands. Letting the leather run across the broken flesh. Her lips curve into that of an approving smile. "You have pleased me."


	7. My Little Maiden

Mildred's body convulses against the stone flooring. The fingers of the Countess are wrapping around like roots from a poisoned tree around her neck; lifting from the ground. "Tsk, Tsk..." The Mistress clicks her tongue, giving a low ground shaking chuckle. It rumbles from her chest and off her tongue. "The. Heirloom." Lady Dimitrescu commands, letting the words hit the syllables with a slashing intensity. The laughter diminished, evaporated into thin air. Nothing but cold, dark and morbid intensity. Fingers digging into the jaw of the woman Alcina Dimitrescu is holding, while her thumb presses into the jugular point of Mildred's neck, making the maid gag, in attempts to gain release from the tension. "Where is it?" The Woman in white asks, leaving herself inches from the woman hanging in the air. Intestines still spilling on the floor, blood now coating the bottom of the Mistress' heels and gracing the bottom hemming of her dress. Painting it red. Mildred is hanging in her grasp, body limp while half of her body is hanging on by threads to her torso. The fact that she hasn't died yet, is merely because of the cattle drugs injected into her bloodstream, freezing for a brief period of time the death process. Lady Dimitrescu wanted this to be slow and agonizing. The brunette struggles to speak, with the leather pressing so hard against her throat, to which the Countess only squeezes harder. Veins beginning to burst, causing Mildred's eyes to water, letting blood spill from her eyes. Crying blood. "I won't ask again." Alcina growls, lifting the woman even higher off the ground. Mildred's body can't take the pressure of the dead weight, causing her spinal cord to snap in the place of its exposure. Half her body, from the torso down dropping to the floor. She screams which comes out as a choked cry while the pain has split every nerve ending, fraying the pain receptors in her body to make her slip into shock and go numb. "Pathetic." The Woman in white hisses, dropping the Maid and letting her body hang by the noose of coarse rope around her neck, her body collapsing into a state of decay. Heels press into the goop of intestines, leaving a POP as Lady Dimitrescu turns on her heels. A single hand lifts and gloved fingers twitch into a movement of summoning. "Clean it." She hisses in a command and proceeding to walk away upon hearing the soft footsteps of a younger girl step forward.

The thudding footsteps hammer in the young girl's chest before they leave in dissipation. Blonde hair tied back into a neat little bun, the black ankle length maids uniform, fitted, just enough to work for the house chores. A white apron, hiked above her knees as to not bloody the apron immediately upon stepping down here. 'Yes, Mistress.' The little blonde whispers in a feeble and shy response. Attempting to show the amount of respect that was deemed and necessary to keep her own heart in her chest. Alcina pauses, listening to the mechanical ring of the young maidens hands, attempting to clean the blood and drain it into a bucket as was policy from the rest of the hanging corpse. Countess' lips curve into a grin as her leather covered fingers press against the stone wall, letting the mechanical sound vibrate against the wall, and ringing in her ears. Such a tough lesson for such a little girl. "Vanilla." The Mistress says, keeping her back to her as she says her name. Letting it seep like poison, quiet, calm, deadly poison. "Do not let me down." Alcina Dimitrescu purrs, flashing gold eyes a moment as she looks over her shoulder before proceeding up the stairs to finish acquiring the missing heirloom. Vanilla snaps her eyes shut as the memory of what happened shockwaves through her head, making her body nearly convulse in physical representation of horror. The bucket shakes in her mechanical fingers, making her counteract and reestablish her own grounding. 'Yes...' Is all she whispers back, now proceeding to set the bucket below the body and grab ahold of a broom, attempting to wash off the intestines from the ground. They are not able to be fed on by the Ladies of the house once they've touched the floor. For this would not be proper. Only the best is expected for the women of the house.

Hours have passed, Mildred's name tag is all that is left of the woman. Vanilla has pocketed those pieces as to set them with the rest of the name tags that have come and gone. 'Mildred, Isla, Nadine.' Three women in the span of a week have now met a fate worse then death. The names rest in a line in a small space behind a dresser of the young maidens resting quarters. 'I'm so sorry.' The little blonde speaks, letting her finger brush across her cheek to wipe the single tear away. A flicker of gold resting in the metal of her fingertips. Having come into possession of the family heirloom, Vanilla is left with the difficult choice of approaching the Mistress, as she would not desire to be caught dead with such an item. No other choice, she has to bring it to Lady Dimitrescu.

Quiet footsteps make their way up the grand halls and eloquent floors of the Dimitrescu Family Castle. The daughters roam the halls, while remaining in terrifying silence, letting Daniela brush through the little Maiden and causing stinging sensations to cut across her cheekbone. The chair that was resting in sweet vacancy is now filled with the Countess. "There you are." Alcina whispers in an unsettling calmness, setting the cup down from her lips, leaving the rim red. "Now, let's take a look at you. Well well, Vanilla. I see you've completed your tasks. Perhaps you are special." Dimitrescu mocks with a playful cruelty. Rising from the chair and standing at her full height, leaving her to tower over the little Maiden. 'Mistress.' Vanilla finally manages to speak out, bowing her head immediately. Extending her hands out, palms flat. Resting in the middle of her hands is the family heirloom that was missing from earlier within the week. 'The candlesticks and tapestries are also resting just outside, Ma'am.' Vanilla explains, feeble, yet quite resilient in her tiny little body. "Is that so?" Alcina replies, letting her leather covered fingers grasp ahold of the heirloom. The connection of metal meeting leather could make the young little girl collapse in fear and yet respect. She keeps her body postures towards a bow. The Lady of the House simply smiles, hands leaving her and allowing the woman to lift her chin. "You will look at me, when I speak." Alcina corrects with a firm yet gentle approach. She knows full well the fear that strikes every bone in the little maidens body. 'Yes, Mistress.' Vanilla replies, quick, quiet and full of self assured confidence. She wants to be good, as it keeps her safe from the chaos that reigns in the Countess' eyes. "Dismissed." Lady Dimitrescu commands, leaving Vanilla's chin with a simple tip of her fingernails just as quickly as she had lifted it. Vanilla lives another day in the Dimitrescu House.


	8. Family Heirloom

Walls lined in gold and pristine white, mixed with little forms of chaotic disintegration. Time has only kept these castle walls up for so long. Decay is not the only thing resting in these castle walls. The shrill cry of a beast, latching onto the outer portion of the castle. Leaving the walls shaking, while the chandeliers swing side to side. Claws latching into the decrepit exterior, letting the shingles collapse and meet the snow feet below. Shrouded in black, leaving this beast to remain unseen, but the sheer force of its vocal leave it a threat as it it's own. Gold eyes shimmer against the fires candlelight, watching as the wind howls and the snow pelts the side of the castle through a window. Arms crossed with one underneath her chest and the other resting at an angle. Leaving her gloves to just brush across her lips. A soft side to side movement against tight lips, leaving a tug before popping back into place. Never looking over that of thirty-five. The resilience in her pale ivory skin is breathtaking. Raven hair resting in 1950's curls, above her well defined shoulders. The shriek splits the Countess from her internal thoughts. It's restless, perhaps just as much as she is. Heels boom against the old worn flooring of the castle, letting every intention of the world know she's coming. She has no need to play in the shadows, and yet she does with precision. Moving in a fluid, elegant momentum, the flash of white is quick between the hallways and the half cracked doors. Echoing in footsteps while the candles leave haunting silhouettes of the Lady in White. Not a word is spoken, for it is not needed. Witches never rest, monitoring the halls and looking as if they're floating in thin air. It's a daunting place The Dimitrescu Castle.

With three dead Maids, leaving the rest of six, it is imperative the women of the house start the process of hiring more, two more are now left missing from their original duties. Vanilla is left to wonder, but assume the worst has happened, following after Mildred and Isla's slow demise. However Mihaela has now been missing for two days and it's left the rest of the women on their best behaviors. Astrid is still recovering from a scythe injury from Miss Daniela, earlier yesterday, leaving her with a Glasgow smile. Yet they let her live. Vanilla pauses in her own thought process, noting as the feather duster traces across her lip, giving her a sense of feeling. Mihaela always painted her nails red, despite the Mistress' dislike or disapproval of such a bold color choice. With a shake of her head, Vanilla is moving again, the soft clink of metallic digits adjusting the harsh conditions and difficult to reach areas given she's only standing at five foot. Alas, she can't do anything but hope.

That is until she's running straight into a rather tall body, 'E-Excuse me.' Vanilla murmurs in a hurried and apologetic statement, red now painting her cheeks pink in embarrassment. A man, resting at six foot four. While not as tall as the Countess herself, the stranger certainly made up for height in physical appearance. Well defined and not shy about it, a clean chiseled chest, pecks that could send anyone to their knees, but it's the scars on his back that leave Vanilla even more curious then before. Flesh has been peeled away, perhaps from animals, a ritual or a horrible accident? Maybe he was made that way? Despite it, the stranger said nothing, passing through the halls almost as vaguely as the Mistress does, evaporating into what felt like thin air. Men don't live in this castle, who's the stranger and why does he seem so overtly comfortable in such an eerie environment? The little Maiden was left with more questions then she had answers, but she didn't have time to ask as the sudden shrill of a blood curdling cry reaches her ears, pulling her to look to the direction it came from.

Blood spills like a horrific waterfall over the main foyer banister, letting a body drop with a loud THUD. Blue crystal eyes widen as the realization of who the body is of, resonates towards the little blonde. 'Mihaela' Vanilla exhales in a breathless attempt of words. Lying is the red painted nails, now cracked and lacking elegance or professionalism. Mihaela's body is contorted with broken limbs facing every direction. A Glasgow smile ripping from ear to ear, leaving a mortifying grin across the corpses face. A head injury that could only be sustained by repeated bashing against the wooden spiked seats that rest against the cold walls of the cellars below. Red marked with blue, purple, yellow and black. Blood is days old while fresh blood still pours from the claw marks on the chest of the body. Her clothes have been ripped from her body, tossed into the fire. Witches cackle as they hide in the swarm of insects, leaving Vanilla no choice but to hide, in hopes she doesn't get caught like the last one. 'I want to watch her bleed.' Olga one of the three witches yelps, letting the bloody smile expose the flesh left from her mouth from taking a bite of the woman as her final passing. 'They promised, they wouldn't bite.'


	9. Help Me Brother!

A woman, dressed in a black blouse dress and a red outer skirt, sandy golden hair turning grey as pressure stacks, now pulled up into a messy and unkept bun. Disheveled and clear worry written into wrinkles across her eyes. The man they dragged, he wasn't supposed to be here. 'Brother, you fool.' The sandy haired woman mutters under her breath. Black boots covered in dirt, shuffling against the old antique wooden floor, attempting to not make the floorboards creak from underneath her weight. Though these floorboards have felt a pressure from a woman twice the size of this older woman, she must get down to the cellar before its too late!

{Flashback}

A boy no older then twenty-one, was sent to seek out his older sister, unsure of where her fate lies as she was summoned to the house of Lady Dimitrescu, never to be seen or heard from again, after a few months. The letters were always on time, every third day or so, but for some reason they just stopped and the boy couldn't help but be concerned for his sister. Despite his grandfather's wishes to remain and stay in the house, the man set off to encounter the woman himself. Seeing if he could pursued the woman with well timed words and a cheap smile. Foolish, perhaps, but he wanted to get his sister back. 'Daniel!' The old man yelled from across the field, causing the sandy haired boy to look back, give a weak smile and quiet wave. He had to leave now, if he wants to make it to the castle before nightfall. Setting on the path to the ominous castle that sits in the mountains, Daniel finds himself wishing he had another choice. 'I'm coming, Anca.' He whispers to himself, setting his sights forwards and moving.

Meanwhile, Anca is busy making up for her prior mistakes. Having had the permission of writing letters taken away from her as a result of short-comings. She's already received a warning with a scythe from Miss Daniela, not looking to receive a Glasgow smile like the rest of the girls Miss Daniela graced with her presence, the cut to her cheek was enough of an incentive. 'I-I' m sorry Miss, it won't happen again.' Anca explains, hushed and shaking in the boots she stands in. 'We wouldn't want to get the head of the house involved now would we?' Miss Daniela chirps, letting her words ring with a chaotic melody of chaos and lack of control. While Mother often left them to their own vices, she still kept a tight reign on things in the house, usually. 'No-No miss.' Anca replies, shaking her head and taking a bow. Her fingers are tight against her black blouse, wrinkling the fabric, making it where it must be pressed in order to maintain professionalism.

(Current)

The Gatekeeper, roams the castle exterior, his Rottweiler at his heels, swinging the lantern side to side on his patrol route. The same route he takes every thirty minutes. The boy having now traveled late into the evening to inquire about this castle, hiding behind an ironclad gate, peaking through the hole in the wood, that rests between the metal. The world is dark while resting behind these castle gates. Black shrouds the home of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. Daniel watches the Gatekeeper round the corner on what he assumes to be his patrol, now pushing the big heavy metal doors open, a very loud way to make an entrance. Yet no one comes calling. The grand entryway is lit by candles and the fireplace off to the right. A grand staircase cascading up to the left and an arching angle. It was breathtaking. Deep mahogany wood lined the interior, mixing with specs of gold and white walls. Ornate objects engraved into the wood pieces of the families insignia in gold. Pride has gone into this castle. But the silence, the silence is deafening, Daniel isn't even sure where to begin. No witches, no maids, no Lady of the House is present to greet him as he expected there to be, but perhaps this is a good thing.

Anca, has now shuddered in her footsteps, hearing the large doors open, though she's all the way across the castle in the east wing. Surprised by the fool who would be dumb enough to enter at their own risk, knowing those that come here never make it back. Curiosity got the best of her and she makes her way through the corridors and heavy hallways. Lost in her own thoughts she's brought back the moment she sees the boys face. 'Daniel!' Anca cries in a hushed fit of surprise. Immediately rushing the boy she's taken him into her arms. 'Anca!' He cries in response wrapping his arms around her. 'What are you doing here?!' Anca asks, now pulling away and holding Daniel by the shoulders. Immediately her head snaps side to side, looking for The Mistress and her daughters. 'You can't be here, you have to go! Now!'

'I won't leave, not with out you!' Daniel fights back, matching the quiet yet angered whisper of his sister. 'Now is not the time, dear brother!" The sister says, now beginning to push her brother backwards in attempts to get him out of the hallway and away from prying eyes. 'What do you mean? I came to rescue you! I haven't heard from you in months! I thought you were dead!" Daniel replies, getting louder as his panic and relief begins to set in. Causing an echo to break the silence in the air. Anca's hand immediately comes to cover the boys mouth, worry now encapsulated into her caramel brown eyes. Making his own deep brown eyes widen. 'Be quiet or they'll hear you." The maid urges with a panicked breathless whisper. Though the boy' s eyes are not wide because of Anca... The tall woman dressed in white is standing behind the poor maid in death of silence. Never making a sound as an indication of her arrival.

"So we finally meet." Alcina purrs in a low calm tone. Her head tilting as a uncomfortably calm smile crosses blood red lips. Gold eyes widening as she annunciates the final syllable of her sentence. Chuckling as an immediate result of the color draining from both the boy and the maid. The walls shake, while the windows resound with the echo of the Raven haired beauty's remarking laughter. Without so much as a breath, leather has wrapped around the boys throat, fingers digging into the jugular of the boy, lifting and ripping him from his sister. 'No! Please! Wait!' Anca begs, lurching forward in attempts to reach at her little brother. Stopped mid movement by two daughters of Mother Dimitrescu, wrapping her arms behind her back and being dragged by her arms towards the cellar. Kicking and screaming, pushing and pulling in attempts to get to her brother, who's turning into an ant the father down the hall she goes. A brown sack now covering her head, prohibiting her from being able to see anything. The heels of her boots drag across the wooden floor, leaving drag marks in a lighter shade. The stone now cutting her heels, causing her to lose both shoes as a result. Immediately the world is dark, hurdling forward the woman slams into the muck of the cellar floor. A loud CLANK of the metal bars closing as the two witches cackle at the humility of the woman beneath them. Still blind, the Maid begins to search, fumbling around the ground in attempts for something to help her, a rounded object with a heavy weight now meeting her fingertips. They feel what could be... Bolt cutters?

Countess Dimitrescu keeps her fingers wrapped around Daniel's throat, watching as the every blood vessel pumps in his veins, attempting to give him oxygen to his head with no success. Now booming footsteps of heels clicking into the wood, so hard they could create indentations. Click, click, click each stair bowing under her weight in submission. Granting passage to the woman who walks as of she were holy. Precision, poise and grace. Daniel feigns to fight back with no avail, now letting his body go limp as he passes out underneath Alcina's pressure. Click, click, click Footsteps echoing against the stone, making the ground shake beneath the castle, shaking the iron bars and informing the inhabitants of Her presence.

The boy now strung up, a brown sack covering his face, nearly strangling him alone, that wouldn't equate to the pressure of the noose around his neck. A sharp sting causes Daniel to cry out in pain, beginning to shake and thrash about the cellar from which he hangs in, leaving his feet to rest standing on a stool. "Fighting is mute, my dear." The older woman coos, letting the sick amusement shine in her tone. Pulling the needle away Alcina sets it down on a silver tray near by. "Do you know why you're here?" Alcina asks, with genuine curiosity, but laced in playful mockery. 'Anca! Where's Anca!?' The boy hisses, wobbling on the stool and attempting to regain his control as to not hang himself prematurely. The Countess shakes her head, the sunhat turning side to side with a bounce. Curls shaking against pale ivory flesh. Her fingers wrap around his jaw, digging in despite the leather buffer, silencing the boy within a matter of seconds. "You're sister, sends her regards." The venom spills like liquid, oozing into every pore of the boy in front of the Countess. Fingers digging in before ripping away as to not leave a hint of light from the cloth sack around his head. 'No! Wait! Mistress!' Anca pleads from across the walkway of the cellar. Having been trapped in her own and finding a way to remove the sack cloth from her face. Within that same second, claws SLASH through the torso of Anca's little brother, spilling blood on the stone flooring below. 'No!' She cries upon hearing the sound of metal ripping through skin. "Let it be a lesson, my dear Maid." Alcina growls in response. "To those who trespass on such refined spaces." She finishes, claws wrapped around the legs of the boy. Voice low, raspy and full of an anger that could only be described as hellish. Claws digging into the boys calves, making him scream in terror and horror for such nature. All because he trespassed, trying to save his sister. POP, CRACK, the kneecaps dislocate, SNAP! ripping the flesh while the nerve ending collapse, snapping at the end of her claws, bone cracking to separate from the rest of the leg. Leaving the man severed from the knees down. Both legs now rest in the Countess' clutches, a low deadly laughter shakes the bars, while it mixed with the utter terrified screams that are muffled by the brown sack over his head. The pressure from the pulling only made the noose tighten, strangling Daniel where he stood. Blood sounds like a waterfall as it pitter patters against the stone. Soaking it in red.

Now the body sways, side to side with an eerie creak of the rope tension against the buckle it hangs from. Anca screams, the pressure in her body cannot match the agony she feels watching her brother tortured for his attempted rescue. 'Why?!' Anca cries, collapsing to her knees in utter agony. Boom Boom Boom black heels click with an intense dislike for the ground beneath them. Cracking the stone as her own anger flourishes in delight. Body bending forward her fingers lace around the neck of the woman, picking her up from the floor and letting her hang there. Yellow-gold eyes flicker as the pupils dilate, arousal mixed with unadulterated hatred. Anca strangles against the weight of her body hanging and the pressure of Madame's clutch. The bolt cutters that were resting beside her are now lodge into her backside. Making brown eyes go wide as the blood begins to drip from her mouth, filling her lungs. PLOP Anca's body drops, now leaving her in the position of sitting, back braced against a wooden table and pool of her own blood. Heels click, hips sway and a trail of blood following in the dragging ends of white, leaves the Mistress of the House sated in her bloodlust carnage.


	10. Sanguis Virginis

The wine process is never as simple as the Countess makes it look. Often it requires a messy and calculated approach. Opposite for what the Mistress is known for, though knowing no one else would be able to create the masterpiece as is Her design. 

The Woman is resting outside in a portion of the gardens, despite the cold winter weather, it never particularly seemed to bother the Countess. Black leather wrapping around a tea cup with a little vial now dripping two three drops of blood into the special herbal tea. Red lipstick leaving the blue flowers stained red, while the gold rim only mesmerizes the rest of the cup in elegance. "Vanilla." Alcina speaks, curling one gloved finger inwards. Beckoning the little Maiden to her clutches. Tone quiet, calm, serene almost. "The vase, it's empty." She adds, not bothering to look at the little mechanical Maiden, ushering forward to immediately take ahold of the vase. 'Would you like something, for it, my lady?' Vanilla asks, in her meek yet shy approach. "Yes, be a dear and don't let me down, hmm?" The Mistress coos in a soft yet informing command. A silent threat laced within her vocabulary and word choice. The statement alone, means of the most importance... Even for flowers. Within a matter of seconds the woman is rising from the seat and what could only be described as vaporizing from one portion of the castle to the other. Leaving nothing but a stained empty tea cup and a red rimmed kiss of death.

Deep within the castle walls, the blood oozes like an injury that hasn't seen proper medical treatment. Barrels line the dimly lit storage room. Damp, rats scurry along the edges, trying to find a morsel of scraps that may have been left behind. Yet even in this grander Castle, rats still infest for the dead bodies that lay cast away in the cellars deeper below the foundations. The little pitter patter of clawed feet running about, until even they silence. Noses twitching at the stark sound of the Countess' heels meeting the stone, shaking it on its own axis. Everything is quiet. Allowing the woman to create in peace. The door slamming shut behind her, and heels continuing to mark her presence to anyone near by. Though those of the household know to not disturb the woman in her process of artistry. Perfection in the form of humanized art, makes for the most delicious and decadent of tasteful sin the world has merely had a lick of. The vineyard while miraculously still bares its fruit, allowing for the Mistress to finish the last of the process for this season of wine. Fingers lacing around an empty barrel, setting it belly down onto two crisscross pieces of wood on either side. An elegant table set just to the side of it. A set of stairs descending down towards the cellars off to the left. Wine bottles, both empty and full. Those these special wine barrels are given the silver family insignia, they are to be bottled specifically. 

Sanguis Virginis, the delectable sin that is shared with anyone and everyone abroad, from a particular family that is in alliance with the Dimitrescu House, and able to deliver the alcoholic sin they call wine. While the brand was given and created by the Matron of the House, the success was partially in hand by those who sell the wine, providing the profit back to the house in which creates it. The Lazarus family has been in cahoots with Dimitrescu for longer then centuries. Edward Lazarus has been the one in particular dealing with the current distribution of the wine sales abroad. A perfect follower, never one to ask questions, never questioning the rich smell that didn't smell overwhelmingly like blood.

A exhale mixed with a low growl emanates from the blood red lips of the tall woman now standing in the cellar. The body hanging doesn't cut the desired method, but Lois... Lois is exactly what is needed for such an experiment. Already managing to keep the little woman secured down in a cell below the castle. There is no need to create a ruckus to acquire the girl. Heavy footsteps inform the maidens that are down here to stand upright and face the cellar doors. None of them know their fate, none of them know when that day will be their last. This is Her design. "Let's take a look at you." Alcina purrs in a mockery of her own sadistic pleasure. Lois is shaking like a leaf in a cold winters howl, trying with all her might to keep herself from collapsing due to the cold. Her knees could buckle, but perhaps that's how Lady Dimitrescu wants her. Shriveled and unsure of her predestined fate. Is this all she worked for? To die by the hands at the Matron. No need to lay a finger on the woman, not this time. A single index finger curls inwards, beckoning the Maiden from the confines of the cell. She steps forward, looking down at the feet of Lady Dimitrescu. "Head up!" The woman snaps out a command, letting the syllables slice like a million daggers. Instinctively, Lois lifts her head, straining upwards to meet Dimitrescu's death of a gaze. "Good." She growls, taking ahold of the little woman by the back of her hair. An immediate response of the maid, is to drop, clutching her head in pain, trying to release the pressure on her scalp with no avail. Dragging the Maiden, the taller woman immediately moves towards the set of stairs, heels clatter against the stone, indicating of. Her disappearance from the rest of the women in their cells. Boom Boom Boom echoing until it's just out of ear shot. The rest of the women, slink back into their respective corners, crying in small tears of rejoice. 

Lois, is not so lucky to receive the same pleasure. The heels of the maiden drag across the broken flooring, cutting her feet as she's dragged up the stairs and towards the open barrel resting on its side. Gloved fingers yanking at the scalp of the woman before lifting, despite the screaming soon to be corpse, this does not halt the woman in her process. Body hanging and kicking, enough to cause the Mistress to tilt her head back, dodging an attempted kick. She scoffs, letting amusement dance in her eyes. "Oh, there is no use in trying to be brave now, darling." She coos with a hint of sensualized carnage. 'P-please!? I didn't do - anything!' Lois screams with a hoarseness that cracks against her vocal chords. CRACK! The forearm of the woman snaps against the Elbow by Alcina's hands, leaving a blood curdling scream. Such as this macabre castle, rests the woman who's done it all. 

The blood mingling with endorphins, chaotic sin, wrapped in a bloody bow of promises and protection. Lies. All of it are lies. And with one pluck of her fingers the Mistress Dimitrescu has determined Lois' fate. A vile cruel intention. Bittersweet words running like honey while there is blood on her hands. The Countess feasts on blood and the suffering of others. Organs crush under the weight of her fingers. There is no purity here. Only sweet carnal lies. Surrender. All is lost in the honey red wine that pours from the Matrons lips. The same red wine that seduced and kissed the seal of death upon Lois and the rest of the Maidens who come when the bell tolls. This is your fate, girl. 

Her hands shake from the sheer force of her fingers crushing the bones in the Maiden's arm. Blood squelching, bursting from between her fingers as fleshy meat is pulverized by the pressure. Slamming her hand down against the barrel, the arm is bent in ways it should not and lays to waste with a thud. Hanging by mere uncollapsed tendons. Inhuman eyes flicker a brighter gold the moment the woman screams, nearly bursting one of her own lungs from the pain that bleeds in her body. Tears spill from the brunettes eyes, like a wave of a tsunami. But the pleasure that is mirrored in Gold could not equate to the Devils grin on her lips. With the young Maiden now broken, incapacitated by shock, it's allowed Alcina to begin her dirty work. Hoisting the nearly unconscious Maiden into the barrel, she drops her, letting the body crumple into a dejected state, folding her chin to her knees, and forcing the girls head up and out of the barrel by the root of her scalp. Taking a moment the Matron steps back, now taking ahold of a glass jar from a nearby shelf, filled with black oozing creatures. They wiggle and squirm, as if they are screaming for help. Oxygen meets their faceless appearance and they scream, tiny, shriveled, bloodlust screams. A chuckle meets blood red lips and Alcina tilts the jar. Sending a thousand or more black leeches to drop above the Maiden. Her eyes are devoured first, sealing a thousand little daggers in the row of teeth sucking into the body the moment they get a taste of blood. Blood curdling screams, are swallowed as Lois is forced to swallow at least twenty, sealing her throat and strangling her to death. Eating her from the inside out. The leeches swarm like flies, latching to any part of the body they can get. Draining this Precious Maiden of her blood. Only later will the Countess pluck each and every leech to seal and create the famous Sanguis Virginis.

With Lois now drowned by leeches in the barrel, the Countess sets the barrel top back on leaving the woman to die a slow agonizing death while Alcina steals her blood. "The bell tolls for us all... They're coming again!" an old hags cry, resonating as the second to last thing Lois hears as if from a memory, before the retreating of heels claiming the submission of the floor the Woman in White walks on.


End file.
